The Truth

Flash fiction contest entry. Under 300 words using the prompt: I didn’t do it.

“I didn’t do it,” says the boy wearing the faded Red Sox hoodie.

The hoodie, which is at least two sizes too big for the boy’s frame, hangs loosely around his twig like arms and the boy seems to be slowly withdrawing into it, like a turtle.

“Do what?” Asks the detective.

Now, I should mention that this detective, the one sitting opposite the boy, is widely considered to be the best interviewer in the county, if not the whole state.

“Whatever it is you think I did,” replies the boy.

“Brush your teeth this morning?”

“What?”

The boy is confused and emerges slightly out from his shell-like hoodie.

I’ll point out that this is one of the methods the detective employs in his interviews which has made him such a highly regarded interrogator among his peers. He is like a boxer, light on his feet, wielding his questions like perfectly timed blows, designed to knock his target off balance.

I expect the detective’s next response to be just as provocative.

“It’s what I think you did. Brush your teeth this morning.”

I was right about the strategic follow up. The boy emerges even further from the safety of his hoodie. A look of exasperation is plain to see on his pimpled face.

“Of course I brushed my teeth.”

“Before you ate my bagel?”

“Yeah.”

The two make eye contact and the detective smiles.

“Mom,” calls the boy, “tell dad to go to work, he’s being annoying.”